by dolan grey
to love you is to lie;
to deceive you is to betray myself.
to curse you is to send my heart to something else,
perhaps a ghost of what I imagined,
last spring, in the rain, under the full moon,
that open heart, willing soul, and I knew them both.
to love you is to die;
to trick you is to destroy myself.
shattered windows and bloodstains,
my mind torn from my body as I tried to
my stars all falling from the sky.
loving you is agony;
shunning you is pain.
not again, said my corpse,
my battered conscience,
this house is built on stone!
but summer brought heat,
autumn brought wind, and
winter brought the chill of death.
suddenly the fortress I had built was
gone, taken by new spring floods.
loving you is death;
hiding from you is torture.
who to blame?
my being, my essence,
swept from beneath by the hand of forces unseen.
my heart had no more walls, then,
my soul was sinking, and
my mind was weak from distress.
shining strength of twenty suns, I prayed,
allow this love to vanish like light in mist.
I loved you, and though it might have,
it never killed me.
I was never so strong in my life.
tombstones waited for my name,
but they did not have it.
the river beckoned, but I ignored it.
the glint of steel sometimes called me out,
but I walked away.
I love you, and I am over it;
I have leapt, and soared, and flown on the clouds,
high above the ruins of my old house
and en route to my new home,
full of black and white, and contrast,
never questioned or denied privilege,
easy to find. easy to find; but,
I will never love again.